


honey, we're walking on air

by uptillthree



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 3.26 aftermath, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptillthree/pseuds/uptillthree
Summary: “I just want— to kiss you again.”“Well, what onEarthis stopping you, Mr. Zimmermann?”“Nothing!” Jack laughed, loud and free in the still night air, tugging Bitty close. “Absolutelynothing,”he said, and kissed him.





	honey, we're walking on air

**Author's Note:**

> i reread the entire omgcp comic yesterday and i died and this is me writing from the grave. hello

In the end, it was a close call, but between the roaring of the crowd and Jack’s teammates— who gladly and beautifully covered for them, bless their hearts— Jack and Bitty slipped out through the back entrance of the stadium pretty impressively fast.

They were in the parking lot, still deserted. It was quiet.

No big scary cameras here. Bitty hadn’t minded in the first place, not really, but this was still— better. No reporters, no interviewers. Just them and their hearts, pumping and alive with adrenaline.

“Jack, are you sure this is—” Both of them were out of breath. “I mean, we just—”

“We really just left,” Jack said, sounding almost dumbfounded at himself. He was staring at the doors. “In the middle of—”

“It’s okay, we can—”

“You'll be in the spotlight too now, and I don’t want you to—”

“Jack, I’d do a thousand interviews if it meant—” (Well, Bitty wasn’t sure about a _thousand,_ but for Jack—)

“I don’t _want_ to,” Jack was saying, “It’s— I know I’m going to have to deal with it soon, but— not right _now,_ when I just—” He had the silliest, goofiest grin on his face, the one Bitty saw so _rarely_ but loved _so much._ Dear Lord, but Bitty couldn’t stop _looking_ at him. “I just want— to kiss you again.”

“Well, what on _Earth_ is stopping you, Mr. Zimmermann?”

“Nothing!” Jack laughed, loud and free in the still night air, tugging Bitty close. “Absolutely _nothing,”_ he said, and kissed him.

  


They couldn’t stay in the parking lot. After all, it was only a matter of time until the press figured out they’d left the stadium.

So, they escaped for the night and left.

They left Jack’s gear and Bitty’s Falconers hoodie in the Falconers’ van, and walked with arms linked along the streets, where nobody was minding them and no one was looking at them and Jack had never looked so contented with being unnoticed, for just a moment. Unnoticed except by Bitty, who couldn’t take his eyes off him for a second.

“We never planned this part of it,” Jack said.

“Hm?”

“The leaving-early part.”

“Oh.” They’d talked about how they’d do it, of course they had. The possibility. If they ever came out. What Jack would say to the press, how Bitty would talk to his parents— but every time, the scenarios in Bitty’s head never quite matched up with the reality. The elation of freedom. And the fear, too. “I know, and if you want to go back—”

“No, I _don’t_ — I don’t want to get in there and face, well, the press, and—”

“But if you have to, honey—”

“I do _have_ to, but. Not right now. I’m too happy right here.” There was Jack’s hand, callused and rough and good, sliding down to hold Bitty’s.

“Mm. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah.” A laugh. “To think… I’ve imagined it so many times, y’know, what I’d say and—”

“I know, we’ve talked about it a lot, but it didn’t quite happen like we thought—”

“No, somehow something’s always different—”

“It was sort of— in the moment, I’m sorry— I know it was sort of impulsive—”

“No, no!” Their laughter, united and overloud. “I could never regret it, Bits, as long as you were okay with it—”

“Oh, sweetheart. I feel the same way.”

  


Bitty made it very clear that he was a hundred percent willing to go home, where several celebratory pies awaited them, but Jack couldn’t wait. (And he wanted a little something more savory than the fruit pies Bitty had baked, sorry, Bits, can we save them for dessert instead? Bitty didn’t mind.)

They ended up in a little low-key diner just a few minutes’ walk from the stadium, completely empty, all classic neon lights and faded red seats. Maybe it was the late hour, but the waitress didn’t even look twice at Jack before taking their order. Bitty supposed she probably didn’t follow hockey, or was just too exhausted to realize just whose order she was taking.

They hadn’t sat down for two minutes when Bitty’s phone lit up for what had to be, oh, the twenty-seventh time since leaving the stadium. Usually he could hardly put it down, but— tonight he’d wanted to get away from it all, so. It had been on silent in his pocket. He bit his lip, bringing it out and showing Jack. “Has anyone been calling _you?”_

Jack looked horrified, digging into his pocket and bringing out his phone too. “I always mute my phone before games start, I—”

The screen was still completely dead— but Bitty didn’t doubt there were probably dozens of missed calls by now. “Honey, it’ll be fine—”

“No, I know, just, George’s probably _losing_ it by now, I can’t believe I—”

“Hey, you saw her before we left, she was _smiling—”_

“Yeah, but— I didn’t want to leave _her_ to do all the work—”

“You’re not, we’re not, we—” Bitty scrambled to grasp Jack’s hands, minutely shaking. “We’ll deal with it. Remember? The team’ll be heading home by now anyway, it’s real late.”

Jack breathed. “We’ll deal with it.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“One game at a time.”

A huff of a laugh. “One game at a time.”

Bitty’s phone lit up again. When he looked at the notification, though, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“What is it? Is— what about your parents, have they called?”

“Oh, well— yeah.” Of course they had, Bitty had expected it. Six of Bitty’s missed calls were from his mama. Bitty breathed. “I’ll answer them the next time they call, promise. And you’ll be there.”

“Of course, Bits.”

“Anyway, what I wanted to show you— it’s the boys,” he said, scrolling up and passing Jack the phone.

group: _HOCKEY FROGS™_

 **ransom:** HOLY

 **nursey:** oh my sweet lord

 **holster:** FUCKING

 **ransom:** SHIT!!!

 **dex:** WHATS HAPPENING

 **lardo:** YEEEEEEEEEE HAW

 **lardo:** JACK N BITTY DID T H A T !!

 **holster:** i literally. What the fuck im crying. i can’t believe

 **ransom:** BROOOO BELIEVE IT

 **ransom:** WHERE’S SHITTY

 **lardo:** BITTY I CAN SEE U SEEING OUR MESSAGES

 **ransom:** SOMEONE FUCKING CALL SHITTY

 **shitty:** I HAVE ARRIVED

 **shitty:** AND I HAVE

 **shitty:** WITNESSED

 **shitty:** THE GREATEST HOCKEY WIN

 **lardo:** BITTY I MAY BE AN ALUM BUT I STILL HAVE MANAGER PRIVILEGES I WILL KICC UR ASS WHERE ARE YALL

 **shitty:** &GREATEST HOCKEY POST-WIN SMOOCH

 **shitty:** KNOWN TO MANKIND

 **holster:** and jack, we kno ur w bitty so ur seein this too

 **bits:** hey !!

 **chowder:** CAPTAIN!!!!!

 **ransom:** M A N

 **holster:** CONGRATS YO

 **lardo:** U GUYS DID IT IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

 **chowder:** THAT WAS AMAZING!!!!!! U GUYS ARE SO BRAVE!!!!!!

 **lardo:** i cant believe yall just Ran Away frm the Scene just like that

 **holster:** no one is surprised tho

 **lardo:** LMAO true

 **ransom:** dont stay out too late children

 **holster:** have a good time out there

 **shitty:** bitty, i want you to know i am a very proud mother

Their food had arrived, a quick meal of roast beef and mashed potatoes and salad. “Well,” Jack laughed, passing him back the phone. “They’re sweet.”

“They _are._ ” The messages hadn’t stopped; Bitty could barely keep up with typing his thank-yous. “It’s real— nice, y’know? That they’ll always have our backs. Even with this.”

 _“Aw,_ Bits, especially this. And you’ll make the team cry if you tell ‘em all that.”

“You think?”

“Mhm.” He nudged Bitty under the table. “Eat up, Bits. You—”

“Oh, _Lord—”_

“You need to eat more _protein_ —”

“Shut up!” But Bitty was laughing, kicking Jack under the table, and then Jack was laughing, too. Bitty glanced up from the top of his phone, because Jack was now looking at his phone too, checking the surely-hundreds of missed notifications, brows furrowing. “Hey. What’s going on over there?”

“George says they’re headed home. Managed to dodge the rest of the press, but that only means they’ll be asking more questions tomorrow. We’ve got a meeting in the morning.” A breath. “But mostly I think even the press wasn’t ready for something like _this_ on the headlines.” Decisively he put the phone down to the side and began to eat.

“It’s not even a— it’s not even a _headline_ thing, it’s just—”

“I know. It’s just— our life. George said that too. It’s none of anyone else’s business, but. You know.” You know how the press is like, he meant. How the world is like. Of course.

“Tomorrow,” Bitty said, “it’s gonna be—”

“I know.”

“You know. We’ve got each other’s backs too.”

And just like that Jack was smiling again, in a dingy old diner with terribly bad lighting and roast beef between his teeth and it still took Bitty’s breath away, God _darn_ him.

“I do know, Bits. Always.”


End file.
